Kitty in the Underworld (Kitty Norville) (3 page)

As a commercial place of business, vampires should have been able to move freely in and out of New Moon. However, because it belonged to me and the pack, because we considered it something of our home and den, vampires couldn’t enter without permission. I’d had a wonderful couple of moments, standing on one side of the door, grinning out at entirely baffled vampires wondering why they couldn’t cross the threshold. But I had to talk to Angelo on a regular basis, so he’d been invited. To his credit, he hadn’t given me a reason to regret that.

He strode across the dining room and deposited himself on the chair opposite me. Cormac straightened, backing his chair up an inch or two from the table. His hands weren’t visible, which meant they were reaching into his pockets for a stake or vial of holy water. In his preprison life, Cormac had been a bounty hunter specializing in supernatural beings. He didn’t much like vampires.

We looked at Angelo, who looked back at us. I didn’t meet his gaze—the hypnotic effects of vampires’ gazes were one of the powers from the stories that turned out to be true. He could lock eyes with us, draw us in, tell us calmly and serenely to walk off the nearest cliff, and we’d do it.

Taking a seat, Angelo pointed at Cormac and looked sidelong at me. “Isn’t he that bounty hunter Arturo hired to kill you years ago?”

I’d forgotten, Angelo and Cormac hadn’t met before. Cormac smirked at the reminder of our shared history.

“Cormac isn’t really a bounty hunter anymore,” I said.

“And I’m sure that makes everything all right.” Angelo continued eyeing Cormac suspiciously.

“Angelo, shut up. This is important. Antony, Master of Barcelona, is gone,” I said.

The man actually paled. Whatever blood he’d imbibed recently washed straight out of his face. “Then it’s started. Dux Bellorum has begun his war.”

“I don’t think so. Antony went after him first,” I said, and repeated the story.

“So it’s not a total disaster,” he said. “Dux Bellorum isn’t coming after us next, is he?”

“Not until he gets this thing he’s looking for,” Ben muttered.

“And what have we got?” he huffed. “The four of us sitting around a table in a bar, looking morose?”

“We have the coins,” Cormac said. He let that hang during a long, dramatic pause. I was about to jump over the table and hang off his jacket collar until he explained, but I didn’t have to go that far. “As I was about to say, I think they’re dog tags, sort of. We knew that—that they’re identifiers Roman uses to tag his allies. But we have to consider—if what the demon said was true, and Roman isn’t really the guy in charge, then he’s a recruiter. He’s tagging his followers so the
real
guy in charge knows who they are.”

Roman was Dux Bellorum, the leader of war, the general. We’d come to believe there was a Caesar out there. The king. Roman might have been controlling the Long Game—but someone else was controlling Roman.

“Could we … Then maybe we could use them to follow the thread back? To find the guy in charge?”

He gave a shrug. “I don’t know yet.”

We all sighed, even Angelo, who technically didn’t need to breathe. We were still stuck at the same wall we’d been stuck at. Roman was on the move and we couldn’t do anything about it.

“At least the bastard isn’t here,” Angelo said finally. As if saying the man’s name would summon him. “He isn’t, is he? Coming here.”

I didn’t know. That was the problem. Roman, aka Dux Bellorum, aka Gaius Albinus, was a two-thousand-year-old vampire with aspirations of world domination. That might have been an exaggeration, but not much of one. He was the central figure in what vampires called the Long Game: rivals collecting allies and power in attempt to be the Master of them all. In a sentence, the one who dies with the most toys wins. Trouble was, vampires were undead …

The anxiety Angelo had been masking with his suave indifference broke through in the tightening of his jaw, the stiffening of his spine. “What about any more sign of vampire-killing demons arriving in Denver? Any of those, by chance?”

“We put up those protection spells. It should at least warn us if the demon comes back,” Cormac said. He and Amelia had cast the spells—and suggested that they weren’t entirely sure the spells would work. The demon we’d battled last year knew we were looking for her now. Next time—if there was a next time—her approach would be different.

“So what do we do now?” I asked, sounding plaintive.

“We do what Alette says,” Ben answered. “We hold tight. Nothing much we can do but keep on until we get more information. I’ll go to Wyoming, you’ll write your book and do your show—”

“You can’t possibly go to Wyoming, not after all this.”

He pursed his lips, gave me a
look.
“Until we know for sure that the world is ending, I’m going to work. You should, too. You can’t sit around stewing all day, every day. At least, you shouldn’t.” He furrowed his brow, probably realizing that yes, I was totally capable of stewing all day, every day, if I let myself.

But it seemed weird to just keep on the same after what had happened.

“Right, that’s the plan. We go on with our lives. Such as they are.” Angelo leaned forward. “If you see anything, hear of anything, you will let me know?”

“You ask that every time you see me. Yes. I told you about all this, didn’t I?” I hoped my thin smile was comforting. Angelo seemed unconvinced.

“Well, then. Until next time, Regina Luporum.”

“I wish people would stop calling me that,” I muttered. The title didn’t actually mean anything. I’d earned it for having a big mouth, not for having any real power. Mostly, people teased me with it. The more I complained, the more they teased. I should know better.

“If the European vampires are calling you Regina Luporum, who am I to argue?”

“They’re just teasing.” Sure enough, Cormac had his lips pressed tight together to keep from smiling, but his eyes shone with amusement.

“Whatever you say. Until next time, then. May our immediate futures be woefully quiet and uneventful.” He gave a little bow as he stood, sweeping his arm in a parody of courtliness, and walked away.

So that was the plan. Keep living our lives. Ben goes to work, I go to work …

I called out, “Hey, wait a minute—” Angelo turned, scowling, and I asked, “Do you happen to know any vampire strippers? You know, strippers who are vampires?” I winced hopefully.

He rolled his eyes and marched out. Ah, well.

I didn’t know anything about Angelo: how old he was, how he’d become a vampire, where he came from, anything. It had taken me years to learn what I knew about Rick, and now I was back at square one. I’d have to start with the needling questions all over again—if I thought Angelo would actually answer them. He wasn’t a bad guy, I didn’t think. Rick had trusted him—to a point, at least. But he didn’t choose the situation he found himself in now, and that made him surly. I could understand that. His prayer for future boredom was heartfelt.

Cormac watched him leave, swinging open the door like it personally offended him and stalking out into the night.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I miss Rick,” he said.

On the other hand, I knew I’d miss Rick the minute he left.

Chapter 3

B
ACK TO
work, then. It wasn’t the end of the world—not yet, anyway—so we had to keep on with our lives. This was better, I knew. The alternative was freezing in place and never moving again.

Angelo came through on finding me a vampire stripper to interview on the show. Or stripper vampire. I still wasn’t sure which way to go on that one. Her name was Colette, and when I asked if that was her real name or her stripper name, she just arced a neatly plucked brow at me and smiled.

I had to admit, I hadn’t ever known any for-real strippers, and I didn’t know what to expect. No expectation at all was better than defaulting to TV stereotypes. She arrived at the studio before the start of the show, and when I met her in the lobby, my first impression was to think, yup, she’s a vampire. She had mahogany hair, light brown skin, wore a real rabbit fur stole over a stylish black silk dress and knee-high leather boots, and held herself with a poise that made me swoon a bit. She’d walk into a nightclub and turn heads, and I tried to remember if I’d ever seen her at Psalm 23, the club the Denver vampire Family ran and used as hunting grounds. I didn’t think so.

In the studio, I offered her a chair and showed her how the headset worked. She was polite, smiling wryly when I avoided looking directly into her hypnotic gaze.

I watched the clock; we were seconds from go, and through the booth window I saw Matt staring, frozen. I’d warned him that she was coming, and that he shouldn’t look directly into her eyes. But it was pretty hard not to, I supposed, when somebody like that walked into the room. The vampire gave him a smile that made him blush. Wrapped him around her finger with nothing more than a glance, and the thing was, that was her vampire nature, and had nothing to do with her profession.

But I could totally believe that she made
really good
tips.

I found a stray pen resting on my table and threw it at the booth window. Matt started at the
thunk
it made, shook his head clear, and got to work, or acted like he was working, flipping switches and cuing up the show’s opening.

He counted down, the on-air sign lit, and CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising” started playing through my headset. Show time. “Greetings! You’ve tuned into
The Midnight Hour,
the show that’s not afraid of the dark or the creatures who live there. I’m your host, Kitty Norville, and I hope you’re ready for another evening of spooky delights and tales of the uncanny. I have a special guest with me tonight. Colette is a vampire with a job you might not expect to find a vampire doing. Then again, I’ve been meeting vampires for years, and they’re always surprising me, which is why I keep talking about them. Colette, welcome to
The Midnight Hour,
thank you for agreeing to this interview. And can you please tell our audience what you do for a living?”

“I’m an exotic dancer. That is, I strip,” she said straight-up, with a knowing smile.

“Is this something you did before becoming a vampire, or did you take it up after?”

“Before, which is part of why I keep doing it—it’s something I know, and I’m pretty good at it if I do say so myself. It’s a lot more fun knowing I won’t ever have to worry about competing with the younger girls, as far as looks go.”

“That’s a perk I certainly hadn’t thought of. And dare I ask how long you’ve been at it?”

“You mean, how long have I been a vampire? Angelo warned me you’d ask me that.”

“It’s standard,” I agreed. “So, how about it? How old are you?”

“Oh, not that old, not compared to someone like Angelo or Rick. I’m just a baby, really.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Right. Moving on, I’ve encountered anecdotal evidence that stripping as a vampire is more lucrative than stripping as a mortal human. Can you confirm or deny this?”

“I can understand why someone might think that’s the case. But really, there are so many factors involved, as anyone in the business can tell you. The time of day, location, the joint’s policies, local ordinances. Being a vampire turns out to be the least of it. In fact, I try not to use my … influence too often. It starts to look suspicious, you know what I mean? I may be one of the immortal undead, but the girls in the dressing room can use a bottle of holy water just as well as anyone if I start poaching.”

That made a frightening amount of good sense. “Did I promise a peek into a hidden world, or what? So Colette, are you up front with your status as a vampire, or do you keep it secret? Is it a marketing point for you? ‘Come see the vampire stripper’?”

“It would be, if I actually advertised it, but I don’t. Some of my friends know, and that’s it, really. I don’t want to turn this into more of a freak show than it already is by advertising I’m a vampire. I mean, look what happened to you when you came out.”

“Freak show?” I asked, grinning. “It’s worked out pretty well for me.”

“I suppose, if you
like
being a target.”

Ouch. I kind of did feel like I’d painted one on myself some days. Well, I’d held on this long, hadn’t I? Without the benefit of vampire immortality, even.

Moving on, then. “So it’s safe to say that becoming a vampire didn’t change your ability or desire to be a stripper?”

“Like I said, I do this because it’s what I know, it’s a way I know I can make some money, and I like to have my own money rather than depending totally on the Family. The Family knows what I do, they’re okay with it. It’s good to have diverse resources, don’t you think?” She purred on this last.

“Remember folks, you heard it here first: vampires have their sticky little fingers in everything, don’t they?” I’d probably hear about this from Angelo later. Really, though, if he hadn’t wanted Colette to talk, he wouldn’t have introduced her to me. “Colette, how do you feel about taking a few calls?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said. “I know how this works.”

“All right, I’m opening the line for calls.” I checked the monitor very, very carefully and picked what sounded like a reasonably intelligent question, hoping against hope that however likely this episode was to end up in the gutter, we wouldn’t actually start there. “Nancy from Hartford, you’re on the air.”

“Hi, Kitty, thanks for taking my call.”

“You’re very welcome, Nancy. Do you have a question for Colette?”

“Omigosh, yes, what an opportunity to talk to a real, live vampire.” I could have quibbled with the terminology there, but I didn’t. Nancy continued, “I know you can’t say exactly how long you’ve been a stripper, but you must have an interesting perspective, and I wondered if you could talk a little bit about how the field has changed over the course of your career?”

Intelligent and academic, even. For my first question of the night, I chose wisely. Even better, Colette was happy to talk about changes in work environments, music, and traditions. “But in the end, it’s always been about watching women take their tops off, and that’ll never change,” she concluded. “Actually, you know what’s changed the most? Male strippers. Equal-opportunity stripping. Maybe a little more high end than what most of us do, but I’m not going to knock it.”